by Livia Quinn
I studied the still water. Swamp Thang was offering to help and the only being that could communicate with her was Freddie. The only ‘seers’ I knew that might qualify were Aurora, who was unconscious, and Jane Fortune, who couldn’t tell the difference between a naval chart and a belly button.
The last time I’d wished for time to pass this quickly Ryan and I had been stranded in the desert and surrounded by a battalion of enemy soldiers. Things hadn’t looked good then either and yet, here we were.
“We’ll…take it under consideration, Fred. As soon as I talk to a seer I’ll get back to you and Viv. Be sure to express our, um, appreciation.” Better to appease than offend, I figured. We were talking about communicating with a frickin’ monster, but as I was learning everything in life is a matter of perspective.
Chapter 10
Montana
What!? I can be humble.
With my thighs clamped tightly to Conor’s neck and my right hand gripping his crest, I thrilled to the feeling of his rippling muscles between my thighs. He flew with such smooth grace. I’d never dreamed of knowing a dragon, much less riding so massive and elegant and deadly a creature as Conor. And if anyone had told me I’d fall so completely for one, I would have fought a death match to prove him or her wrong. The truth was, I was mortifyingly gone over the dragon knight. Conor was the being, man or creature, who was perfect for me.
Given my job description—the dispensing of abusive males of any species, it was amazing that I’d found Flambé. I hadn’t found him though. Hadn’t even recognized him the first time, when I’d met him in his magnificent dragon form. He’d saved my ass and that of my charge and taken out the abuser with a precisely aimed blast of his fiery breath. I hadn’t known him in his fine human form either, even when he asked me to dance with him to Imagine Dragons’ “Battle Cry” at the Mardi Gras ball—not until he called me “Victoria”, the name he’d seen on my sinfully sexy lingerie that first day.
I hadn’t gone exactly easy either. I required proof of his skill, his power and his mission. I’d gotten it, and here I was flying high over Destiny. As a strapping six-foot-plus warrior-goddess, I gloried in feeling tiny as I took in the landscape under his massive wings.
In front of me I saw Conor’s compact red-rimmed ears laid back for a smoother ride and his long nose/snout/whatever diverting the wind away from my perch behind his head. The way the wind lifted his crimson lips away from his gums made him look like he was grinning. I giggled. Gods, I giggled at the whistling sound the wind created going through his teeth. And there was surely pleasure in those half closed eyes.
“You’re not going to run into a 747 taking off from New Orleans are you? Maybe you should keep your eyes open.”
I felt the rumble go through his lungs and expand up through his ribs and back, like a giant vibrator. “Ach, are ye scared, my wee dragon lass?”
He still called me his wee dragon to remind me of our first meeting when I’d been able to produce no more than fog from the temporary dragon I’d shifted into. And he was just male enough, arrogant enough and dragon enough—okay, so the use of dragon and arrogant was massively redundant, but he just had to keep reminding me that he’d rescued me. I knew that, but even feeling what I did for Conor, it was difficult. Dinnshenchas are arrogant as well. Our kind of arrogance comes from a proven competence in our abilities.
My vamp side brought something extra to the table, so I’d known that even during the power down I’d be more than just an average fighter. Vampire had only been a part of my nature, though, since the early 1900’s and hadn’t ever been tested. That, I was loath to admit, caused me a measure of trepidation.
I watched Conor’s wide black wings guide us into a gentle arc over the Faerie Inn. The verdant green lawn in early March was a sure sign someone besides humans lived at the Inn. We’d just seen a late snowfall at the end of a very cold winter. The circular drive lead to an unimaginably grand peach colored mansion with a curved set of staircases flanking a forty-foot golden door. When tourists saw the “private residence” from the road with staircases that looked like two giant swans, beak to beak, they simply saw one of the grandest antebellum homes in the south.
I was curious about the reception I’d receive. Faeries didn’t like vampires. What an understatement. Their feelings lay somewhere between hate and apoplectic, but Phoebe had been right—they loved dragons. The merest of pixies loved the fiercest of dragons.
Conor’s wings curled under at the tip and I dug my gloved hands into the skin beneath his neck armor as the wind skimmed over our heads. He glided to the ground and landed in the middle of the front lawn with nary a jolt.
I said, “I hope you’re fast enough to take them out before they kill me.”
“It is forbidden for me to kill innocents, Branislava, especially Paramortals.”
He was such a stick in the mud about the rules. “I wish you’d reminded me of that at Harmony,” I said, as the two-story golden doors slid open and Petre strode out, fearlessly stopping nose to nose with the dragon. It was an amazing sight. Conor was easily forty feet tall and I could see Petre’s excited eyes just below Conor’s long nose. The faerie king bowed to Conor, and Conor’s massive head dipped suddenly, nearly throwing me to the ground. I saw the surprise on Petre’s face when he spotted me, and the instant narrowing of those slanty purple eyes.
Then Conor changed and I was dropping through mid-air to land in his outstretched arms. The faces of Petre and Arabella moved in, up close and personal to assess the threat, and to show off their pointy-toothed grins.
“Is this where we all show our teeth and swear allegiance to the one with the biggest bite?” I looked up at Conor, whose eyes were filled with amusement. “Show us yours, Conor.” That would be the end of that.
What was he doing, serving me up as faerie chow? “Put me down, Conor. If we’re going to have a smack down to determine who’s the baddest we might as well get it over with.”
The fae’s large oval eyes tilted up and Arabella said, “Petre, stop scaring the girl. You know she’s Tempe’s friend and besides, we must get acquainted with this magnificent fellow.” She smiled up at Conor who gave another gracious bow and dumped me unceremoniously on the ground.
“Oomph!” I sprang to my feet, ready to fight if it was a trick, and to give Conor a talking-to, but the three were already nearing the porch leaving me to bring up the rear.
I heard the chorus of excited fairies before I made it to the entry threshold.
“It’s a dwagon.”
“A weel dwagon,” two seemingly young voices screamed.
“He’s beautiful.” That was a low-pitched sultry sounding faerie that sent my hackles up.
“Mr. Dwagon, can I touch your scales…”
“Can you bwiev fire?” Finally, a male voice.
The excitement went on until finally, stranded outside the monstrous front doors until I could get someone’s attention, I yelled, “Can I get a word in with Petre and Arabella, please? We’re in a time crunch here.”
Every face in the Inn—all shapes, sizes, and colors of fairie turned to me and I realized I’d underestimated the race, understanding now—too late—that the size of a fairie was of no consequence. Having a thirty-foot tall king was a colossal diversion. It gave one a feeling of superiority as if there were only two Faewho could be a threat when in actuality it was a house full of deadly assassins, who could kill a hundred different ways—each.
Even the tiniest pixie seated on Petre’s long narrow leg could probably kill me. This was an entirely magical world and I was out of my depth. The miniscule little fairy on Petre’s knee shivered with the desire to jump me. It was written all over his face from his angry glowing eyes to his posture, stretched out toward me with only Petre’s fingers pinching his backside keeping him from leaping the distance to my jugular.
I cleared my throat and tried to scrape up a modicum of humility. I knew what the word meant but like my thoughts earlier on arrogance, I ha
dn’t had much call for this trait in my long life, and quite frankly hadn’t ever seen a use for it.
Conor waited for me to dig myself out of the hole I’d dug myself into. His brow lifted, waiting. Petre looked like he wanted to let the little fairie have his way. Only Arabella looked as if she understood my outburst. She was Tempe’s friend, so she knew me by extension of that friendship.
I kept my eyes on Bella’s. Was she trying to send me a message? Try a little humble pie. Yep.
“I… apologize, King, to you and all of your… er… subjects…er, family. I am a warrior and…” The truth will do. I heard the voice in my head and looked back at Arabella who smiled. The truth, right. I started over.
“I do apologize. My urgency and warrior nature leaves me little regard for diplomacy. That is something I must learn, obviously. May I enter and speak with you about our current crisis? Time really is of the essence.”
Conor’s shoulders relaxed and I felt a squeeze of my heart when I saw his swords, which had been lifted a half a foot out of their sheaths behind his shoulders, settle back into place at the ready should we need to fight our way out.
He smiled at me. It made me feel all gooey inside. Sheesh, these emotions were new, totally new, like never in four hundred years new. The Para-moon wasn’t responsible.
The barrier I assumed would be in place for vampires dissolved and I walked into the center of the golden room. It was shot with brilliance from the east through the largest faceted windows, sunlight bouncing off the pool of water, the gold-embedded floor, and off the blond hair of every creature in the room. Arabella floated over to Petre and he swung his knee out for her to sit.
They gave me their attention. Even mean little midget fairy, who was still glaring at me from his perch on Petre’s foot along with a dozen others. Now that I’d been given the floor more of the Inn’s inhabitants and guests popped out regarding me with curiosity, and more than a few—with hunger. Better get to it then.
“Phoebe asked me to come.” Bella’s mouth dropped open with a soft sigh. “She’s back? Why didn’t she come herself?”
Knowing Arabella and Tempe were close, I gave her the latest information I had. “She is with Tempe and Aurora, who have been very ill since last night. But Tempe and Aurora are.”
Arabella frowned. “It must’ve been serious for Phoebe to return.” Her concern was evident and I found myself liking the beautiful fae. Tempe had said Bella could’ve been a famous model even without her fairy glamour. Her lush features, the creamy luminescent skin and wide violet eyes were killer. “What’s wrong with Tempe?”
I looked from Conor to Petre and back to Bella. “I guess I just thought you would know about everything that’s happened. You do know about the Chaos though, right?”
With a silent cue from their King, the fairie came alive with purpose. The way they scattered, performing the Faeversion of an emergency drill, suggested they’d had no clue.
Well! That would have been good to know, Phoebe. I looked at Conor who was rigid, watching silently as the activity blossomed around us.
Petre unfolded his long legs, his eyes turning a dark clear cerulean, a reflection of the pool at his feet. Arabella wasn’t seated on his knee any longer. In her place, Bella’s image wavered until a tall brilliantly plumed bird appeared, its beak snapping sharply in Petre’s direction. Petre made more motions with his hands and the Faeobeyed.
The room darkened instantly as the wide open lush forest behind the Inn was shut out by a solid wall embedded with lines of glittering specs that moved up and down its length from floor to ceiling, like blips on an energy grid. A fairy security system? Goddess rocks!
Petre’s friendly facade went dark, his face and the musculature in his body changed, bones nearly protruding through the skin, giving him the appearance of a deadly predator with a long menacing mouthful of razor teeth. A glance at the other formally cheerful Faerevealed similar changes. Suddenly the glowing blue green eyes of the entire household all looked at me like I was the next course.
For the first time in my life, I felt a strong compunction to run, not out of fear—okay, I could admit to a bit of healthy fear. Just this once, I would have run, though I doubted it would have done any good without my Dinnshencha power. The vamp gave me speed and strength, but I was badly outnumbered by a species that were actually superior to vamps in many ways.
Good thing I had Conor. I noticed even Petre cut his eyes toward Conor. The desire to eat me must be pretty strong. Better deliver the message before they lose control.
I faced Petre. “Um, I know you’d prefer to eat me more than listen to me, or divide me up with the clan…”
Petre growled, “I don’t share…”
I swallowed, but heard Conor’s swords slip out of their sheaths. Petre’s posture relaxed slightly, and I tried again. “I was asked to inform you of the Chaos and beg your assistance.”
Petre’s eyes flared and his teeth became more prominent. That comment seemed to give him particular pleasure. And if birds could be said to roll their eyes, I would swear that’s what Petre’s Queen aimed in his direction.
Then Petre growled, “Kneel, vampire.”
Chapter 11
Montana
Maybe he’d skip the vampire au gratin.
So, it wasn’t my imagination. The crowd of nasty looking fairies thought this conversation was the appetizer to the main course. My snide comment about the shakedown earlier might come back to bite me—literally. I made a note to be more careful in the future and more aware of species customs—if I made it past the next sixty seconds. A tiny voice in my head, I’d like to think that was Arabella as well, said I’d been getting my way for too long.
“Uhnn…your highness, I’m sorry about my earlier insensitive comment. We could really—”
Petre shook his head, no, and drool escaped the toothy grins of some of the fae’s lips. He extended a hand that looked like a branch with its disjointed digits and large knuckles, and pointed the longest of four fingers at the floor.
I groaned inwardly and looked at Conor, who simply leaned on his giant sword and shrugged. I could almost hear him thinking “needs must”. Yeah, yeah.
Okay, what’s a little humble pie if it keeps you from being torn apart by a bunch of crazed fae? Watching them carefully, I knelt on the floor feeling the thrum of energy vibrating through the stone in pulsing waves.
“Can we talk now?” I asked looking way up at Petre, and beginning to get concerned.
He studied me briefly, then satisfied, asked, “What were the exact words the Tempestaerie used?”
That’s right. She’d made me memorize it. I repeated Phoebe’s message verbatim. “Vazar Aquilei vel Aq’ligea meile.” It was the old Paramortal language and paraphrased it meant, Fae, get your Asses over here and defend your Paramortal brothers. I waited for a signal from the FaeKing that my message had been accepted.
Subtle changes took place on Petre’s features and in the room’s atmosphere. It wouldn’t have been noticeable to most beings, but I felt the shift from pure antagonism to something more positive. Petre said in his even, kingly voice, “Rise, Branislava.”
Surprised that he knew my real name I looked at him. He was once again beautiful, and if not cheerful, at least he looked hospitable, like he could skip the vampire au gratin.
Arabella appeared at my side in her fairy queen body. I wondered if Conor was affected by the Queen’s beauty or their glamour, but when I looked his way, he remained impassive. He was really good.
This was totally my show, apparently. Once again, confidence settled within me. I had long believed there would not be a man for me. I saw so many spouses, boyfriends, relatives who were not only cruel and abusive, but who subjugated the objects of their “affection” to their own whims attempting to control them.
Attempt would be the operative word for someone who tried that with me, but Conor made no effort to usurp my Goddess-given nature. He was a paradox of old world values and enligh
tened pragmatism. And yet, I knew as sure as the moon would rise that if the entire fairy clan had attacked me, Conor would have waded in and fought beside me to the death. I smiled inwardly—their deaths.
“The dragon speaks well of you with his silence,” Petre said, reflecting my thoughts. Or maybe he could read them. Hmm. Motioning to Conor that he could join us, Petre waited for me to finish my update.
“Sheriff Lang has made Harmony—Tempe’s home—the base of operations. As you know it’s the strongest well of magic in the area. There’s plenty of room for assembling the troops, dragon landings, and spell casting. Can you and your folk leave here?”
Petre said, “We can travel the leylines to the Forge, but there is a problem.” He glanced at Bella. “My queen tells me there are foreigners in the Forge, an elemental dragon and an evil fae.”
Conor glanced at me, allowing me to continue as head honcho. I shrugged, giving him leave to speak. He said, “Le Vouivre is only stranded. I will take care of it as soon as I return. This other threat, I am not aware of. We will send word when all is clear.”
So, Conor had a plan in mind to get Vivie out of the swamp. “Once these threats have been eliminated you will come?” I asked Petre.
Bella said, “Our people are vast. We will split up to cover all of Storm Lake.” I had wondered if the Faequeen’s title was just a token. “Even the least supernatural of citizens in Larue will need our protection, perhaps even more so, but a contingent of leaders and bright ones will travel to their respective posts as soon as the threats are eliminated in the Forge.”
“It’s done, then. Thank you from all of us.” I said, relieved.
Petre bowed to me. “There is no need to thank a brother. We are one in our Paramortal mission.”
Oh, now we’re brothers! I locked my face into a neutral expression. Conor and I bowed, then turned and strode out through the golden doors with Conor transforming as soon as his foot hit the porch. “Haud on! We must make haste.”
